we grieve alone (we grieve together)
by Someone aka Me
Summary: After the war, there is grief, but there is also warmth. And there is healing.


Assignment 11: Career Advice Task 4: write about Charlie Weasley

* * *

The December after the war, Charlie doesn't come home for Christmas.

He can't.

He thinks about seeing the empty spaces where Fred used to be and he _can't_.

He stays on the Reserve, takes the overtime hours, works through the holiday and tries not to feel.

It sort of works as a stopgap measure, but it still winds up with Charlie sitting alone at a bar on December 26, drunk off his ass and aching for the brother he shouldn't have had to lose.

It's not a good solution.

But maybe it's better than looking his mother in the eye and knowing that Fred died when he _wasn't there_.

Looking George in the eye.

Zoe, his favorite coworker, comes and finds him when she gets back from France, scrapes him off the floor of his apartment, sets him on his feet and asks if he's done with his pity party.

He loves her.

Not in a romantic way, but more than he's ever loved anyone who wasn't family.

And a year later she doesn't wait for him to put in a holiday request — she puts it in for him.

"You're going home," she says.

He knows she's right.

…

When he arrives by portkey on the 23rd, the Burrow is already full to the point of almost bursting. His mother gets the door, smiling broadly, and Charlie wraps her up in a massive hug, picking her up and spinning in a circle. He sees her laughter, full-bodied and real, and he's glad he came. She makes her way back to the kitchen, where Fleur is icing cookies and Oliver Wood is pulling something out of the oven. Charlie grins at his old teammate.

"Oliver!"

"Charlie!" Oliver greets, setting the pan of roasted vegetables on top of an oven mitt and turning to face him. "It's been a long time."

And it has. Charlie saw him, that day in May, but he didn't stop to talk. He remembers seeing Oliver next to Percy on a bench in the Great Hall, Cedric Diggory on his other side.

It was the first time he'd ever seen his little brother cry.

He was glad, then, that Percy had friends who would stand beside him, even when he'd spent the last three years being a total _dick_.

(Charlie loves Percy, he does, but Percy is a moron sometimes, bullheaded in his belief in what is right, stupid over it once he's made up his mind. Charlie's not too proud to admit that it's a trait that runs in the family).

He's glad, now, that grief clearly hasn't managed to separate Percy and Oliver.

"Angelina's in the living room," Oliver says. "If you're trying to visit your old team." He grins wryly.

Charlie takes that as a sign to stop bothering them in the kitchen, and he wanders into the living room, which has been expanded since his last trip home — and good that it has, because even the extra space is filled.

George and Angelina sit on one couch, Bill's seven month-old daughter bouncing on George's lap. Charlie feels the spark of shock when he sees the place where George's ear used to be. He saw it before, but he's still not used to it.

Bill is seated beside George, turned and engrossed in a conversation with Ron's friend… Hermione? He thinks that's her name. She's holding Ron's hand, and Ron is beaming. Next to Ron is Harry and next to Harry is some kid that Charlie doesn't know, and they're conversing loudly about the latest Quidditch game — Ginny loudest of all, because she's an alternate for the Harpies now and fiercely protective of her team. On the other side of the room, Cedric and Percy have their heads bent together, their conversation too low to be heard in the loud room.

The room is loud and the mood is merry and Charlie feels the ache where Fred used to be throb and scab over, just a little bit, at the proof that they can get through this.

He crosses the room to George, waving and saying hello to everyone who notices him.

"May I?" he asks, gesturing to Victoire.

Bill turns to him, slaps his hand in greeting, and says, "Finally going to say hello to your niece?"

"Have to introduce her to her coolest uncle," he says, scooping her out of George's arms. She's warm and soft and he kind of wants to hold her forever.

"Hey, Victoire," he murmurs softly. "I'm your Uncle Charlie. You ever need anything, I'm always just an owl away. You wanna be a Princess who has dragons on her side, you talk to me, okay?"

Angelina laughs lightly. "I see how it is. Bribing her with dragons already."

Charlie shrugs. "Hey, I'm at a disadvantage, being so far away. I've got to get ahead somehow! Can't have someone else taking over as favorite uncle."

"Taking over implies you ever had the position," George says.

Charlie clutches a hand to his heart. "I'm hurt, Georgie."

George grins. "It's a talent," he says.

Charlie can't help but grin back.

They eat dinner at conjured tables in the living room because the dining room is no longer large enough to contain them all. There are seven conversations going on at any one time and dishes being passed back and forth and Charlie lets the energy of the room wash over him, filling him up.

He's missed this.

He needed the time to heal, because that's how he heals best — alone — but he's missed this.

After dinner, he puts a hand on George's shoulder because he knows, he can see the look in George's eyes and George looks at him, their eyes on a level, and Charlie knows.

He tips his head in question and George nods and when George leaves for the graveyard he takes Charlie with him.

George leads the way easily to the clean headstone, his feet taking the steady, precise steps of someone who has walked this path many times before.

He banishes the dead flowers at the foot of the stone in a small vase and replaces them with new blooms, beautiful in their efflorescence. His eyes are sad, and Charlie feels like he's intruding for a second until George looks up at him and says, "I'm glad you're here."

Charlie smiles but he knows his eyes are just as sad.

Charlie runs a hand over the cold, damp stone. It's smooth like glass. The letters carved across its surface are dark, black embedded in grey stone.

 _Fred Weasley_

 _1 April 1978 - 2 May 1998_

 _Mischief Managed_

He knows the words were George's choice.

They're good words. Words that mean a lot.

But there are no words that could represent all that Fred was.

He takes a deep breath, and he lets himself _feel_.

…

When he and George return the house is quite, more somber than it was before.

Bill and Fleur have gone home, taking Victoire to her own bed. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny have retreated upstairs. Angelina is in the kitchen with his mother and father, drinking hot chocolate and talking softly.

George joins them while Charlie wanders into the living room.

Piled on the couch, a mess of tangled limbs, are Percy, Oliver, and Cedric. Cedric is curled into Oliver's chest, both of them sprawled out lengthwise. Oliver has his back to the back of the couch and Cedric is lying flat. Percy's head is on Cedric's stomach. It's honestly hard to tell whose legs are whose.

It makes Charlie wonder.

Cedric is asleep, and Charlie thinks Oliver is too, but Percy blinks at him blearily.

"All right?" Percy asks, voice pitched low.

Charlie nods. It isn't, because grief is still clawing at his throat, begging for escape, but it's better than it was — more raw, but better — which is enough for now.

He tilts his head. "You know, you all look like you're together?"

Percy blinks at him.

"That's… that's because we are." Percy's voice is still a whisper, not wanting to wake anyone, but Charlie can still hear the hint of his confusion.

"What?" Charlie ask.

Percy somehow shrugs without moving his shoulders. It's an impressive maneuver.

"We've been together since… well, sort of since I was seventeen, but then I was stupid, so there were a few years where we weren't."

Charlie blinks in shock.

He wonders how he missed this.

His little brother has… two boyfriends?

Huh.

"Oh," Charlie says. "Well. Congrats?"

"Sorry I didn't tell you. I… Guess I assumed you knew."

"S' fine, Perce," Charlie says easily. "Are you… happy?"

When Percy smiles, Charlie understands what bliss looks like.

"I am," he says.

Which is good enough for Charlie.

"I'm glad," he says.

He makes his way back into the kitchen, seating himself at the table.

His mother pours him a mug of hot chocolate and he wraps his hands around it, letting the warmth fill the spaces inside of him that have been cold for too long. His mother smiles at him, and asks about Zoe and his favorite dragons. And Charlie finally, finally lets go of the tension he's been holding for a year and half, and lets himself start to heal.

* * *

Writing Month: 1535

Moresome May: Scenario: The triad aren't hiding their relationship but others think they're just really good friends. Until someone says "You guys all look like you're together."

Character Appreciation: 3. (character) Fleur Delacour

Showtime: 28. Little Fall of Rain - (object) Flowers

Buttons: O4: Vase

Cooking: flour: action: baking, character: Molly Weasley

Insane House: word: efflorescence


End file.
